


An Unexpected Visitor

by towan_white



Category: Set the Thames on Fire (2015), The Mighty Boosh (TV)
Genre: Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-05
Updated: 2017-11-05
Packaged: 2019-01-30 00:38:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12642567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/towan_white/pseuds/towan_white
Summary: Vince is left alone one night and accidentally summons Dickie using a book he stole from Naboo.





	An Unexpected Visitor

Vince let out a soft sigh as he lounged on the patterned sofa, staring at the ceiling with his eyes half open.

“Vince, Bollo and I are heading out for a gig, do you want us to get you anything on the way back?” asked Naboo, stepping out of his room and closing the door behind his familiar.

“No thanks, Naboo. I’ll be alright,” Vince replied sleepily, barely turning his head to face his flatmates. Bollo wandered over to Vince’s side and crouched down next to him.

“Vince, what is matter? You look sad.”

“Not sad, Bollo, just bored. Howard’s gone out to another one of his weird jazz exercise sessions and there’s nothing to do!” As much as Vince missed Howard’s company when he went out without him, he shuddered at the thought of joining him for one of his Jazzercise classes.

“Well whatever you decide to do, just stay out of my room, alright? You know what happened last time you went through my stuff,” Naboo chimed in. “Come on, Bollo. We’re gonna be late. Vince, we’ll see you later, yeah?”

“Yeah, seeya later,” Vince echoed as Bollo rose to leave with Naboo. The two of them walked down the stairs and locked the door to the flat behind them, leaving Vince on his own.

Vince had been trying to decide how to fill his time for the past hour. He had considered napping, but he wasn’t tired enough yet, and any other activity he could think of just wasn’t the same without Howard. He just wanted to do something interesting, and in spite of Naboo’s warning, the temptation to rummage through his belongings was simply too strong for Vince as he rolled off the sofa and slipped into the shaman’s bedroom.

With what little sense he had in his simple head, he decided to steer clear of Naboo’s spell books after almost causing Nanageddon the first and last time he attempted to summon a demon. Instead, his attention was turned to a much more normal-looking bookshelf. _If I can’t mess around with magic, I can at least check out what Naboo likes to read in his free time,_ Vince thought. Upon closer inspection of the shelf, however, he found very little of actual interest. The vast majority of the shelves were filled with old encyclopedias, fairy tale collections that pretty much everyone in Britain had heard a thousand times before, and a few books about the best ways to grow cannabis. He was about to give up on the shelf when one particular book caught his eye. It was a plain black hardback with no title or author on the spine, and as Vince pulled it from the shelf he noticed that not only were the front and back covers bare as well, but that the book was locked shut with a padlock.

A mischievous grin spread over Vince’s face as he set about trying to find something with which to pick the lock, giddy with excitement over the assumption that he had stumbled upon Naboo’s diary. He ran to his and Howard’s bedroom and pulled a paperclip from a neatly-arranged row of them. _Howard won’t mind me borrowing this,_ he thought, wandering back into the living room as he shoved the end of the paperclip into the lock and fiddled with it. He almost yelled with joy as the padlock fell to the floor, but as he went to open the cover the book itself seemed to jump out of his hands and also landed on the floor with a loud thud. The cover threw itself open and the pages rapidly turned themselves as if a strong gust of wind was blowing them over. Vince simply stood and watched on in shock, not sure of what was happening or what to do to stop it.

The pages abruptly stopped turning moments later, and Vince hesitated for a few seconds before crouching over to look at the page that the book had opened to. There were no words; instead there was a detailed black and white illustration covering the entire double-page spread. The picture was of what Vince thought to be a woman, laying wide-eyed on the ground with blood trickling down from her parted lips. Upon closer inspection, however, Vince noticed that the woman’s face was somewhat unusual. There was something very striking about the shape of her nose and the expression that she wore, and the more Vince stared at the image the more familiar her face seemed. His train of thought was derailed by the distant sounds of screaming and ringing which broke the eerie silence in the flat and seemed to be getting louder by the second. At the last second, Vince realised that the sounds were in fact coming from directly above him and leapt out of the way as the source of the screaming came crashing down through the roof of the flat and onto the living room floor.

Once the cloud of dust and debris had cleared, Vince stared in awe at the person lying unconscious on the floor in front of him. They looked almost identical to the woman in the book – which had closed itself during the crash – but there were a few minor differences. Their eyes were closed and the blood was missing from their mouth, but what caught Vince’s attention the most was the fact that the person in front of him was quite clearly a man. He had short, messy blond hair which was tied up in bunches, shoulders slightly broader than Vince’s, and was dressed in a short, pink, frilly dress, clear plastic gloves, black fishnet tights and white heel boots. He wore a string of pearls around his neck, as well as a multi-coloured strap which had a dirty, plastic toy camera attached to one end and an equally filthy toy alarm clock on the other. _That must’ve been where the ringing was coming from,_ Vince thought, leaning down to more closely inspect the man’s face. Almost every inch of it was covered in some form of makeup. As well as white paint to make him appear as pale as possible, he also appeared to be wearing some form of foundation on his cheeks and had forgotten to remove the shaping tape. His lips were messily coated in a dark, plum-coloured lipstick and, strangest of all, his eyebrows had been completely shaved off and drawn on with thin black lines, the inner ends of which pointed down on his left eye and up on his right.

However, the bizarre fashion choices weren’t what disturbed Vince the most regarding this man’s appearance. Underneath the smudged makeup, he recognised the stranger’s face as none other than his own. The resemblance was uncanny, almost to the point where they could have been identical twins as far as he knew. Strangely enough, the more he thought about it he realised that a lot of people he had encountered in the past looked very similar to him - the Hitcher, the evil Jazz Virus, even that weird Tony bloke from the Board of Shaman – but this was the first time he’d ever noticed a resemblance straight away. It hit him in the face like no encounter ever had before but he couldn’t quite figure out why.  For what felt like ages, Vince simply stood over him, staring down at what could have been his own reflection.

Suddenly, the man’s eyes shot open. He gasped sharply and jolted upright, patting himself down as he seemed to be catching his breath. Vince shot back in shock, almost letting out a squeal. As well as breathing heavily, the strange man also seemed to be whimpering. It almost sounded like he was trying to say something, but Vince could never quite seem to make it out.

“Im… Impre… Impres…”

Eventually his ramblings trailed off, and his breathing slowed down as he slowly turned his head left and right to survey his surroundings. Vince had considered running from the flat in terror, but his own panic had seemed to diminish along with the man’s, and after a few moments of silence he cleared his throat to speak.

“Are you alrigh—“, Vince asked as confidently as he could, cutting himself off as the man suddenly turned his head and upper body to face him. He struggled to his feet, his toys clattering together as he affixed his eyes to Vince’s with deranged intensity. His lips were slightly parted, showing his harshly gritted teeth which allowed his loud, shaky breaths to pass through like an air vent. Vince stepped back as the man approached him, his erratic nature terrifying him in a way he’d never known before. He wanted to scream so badly that he almost didn’t notice the terrifying stranger’s expression shift from one of malice to one of concern and confusion.

“Wh-where am I?” His painted lips quivered as he shakily questioned Vince. Vince almost couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Not only did he resemble him in appearance, but he sounded like him too. His voice was whiny and desperate – the sort of tone that Vince adopted only when he was most scared. So it was that the tone in which Vince responded almost seemed to echo his.

“Shoreditch,” he mumbled, raising his pitch at the end as if he were asking a question. The man didn’t say anything, and instead turned away from Vince and began frantically inspecting the room. He started to whimper again, the sounds becoming increasingly sad and desperate the more he wandered. Vince was frozen in place. He didn’t want to move or say a word for fear that he would turn on him. The man eventually stopped in the middle of the living room, quickly turning to look at Vince again and making him jump. He wandered slowly over to him once again, squinting intently at him.

“You look familiar,” he muttered, his face mere inches from Vince’s, “have I met you before?” His voice was now deeper, and raised as if accusing him. Vince’s eyes were wide with terror as he silently shook his head. Clearly the man had recognised the resemblance too, but hadn’t quite put together that it was his own face he was seeing in Vince’s. He stepped back and stared at the ground, seemingly bewildered by what was happening. Vince related, but tried to keep his cool as much as possible.

“Who are you?” he asked quietly, trying to engage the man in conversation in the hopes of calming him down.

“I… I’m called Dickie…” the man replied hesitantly and slowly, as if it was something he had to think hard about. Vince also thought that the way he had worded his response was rather strange, but decided it was best not to question it at this point in time.

“Well… Dickie, where did you come from?”

“I… I don’t know…” he stammered, sounding almost as if he was about to burst into tears.

“Hey! It’s okay,” Vince assured him, reaching out a shaky hand to touch Dickie’s shoulder. He didn’t flinch or even react to it, much to Vince’s relief. “You’ll remember later, I’m sure.” Dickie glanced up at Vince for a moment before fixing his eyes back on the floor.

“I… I remember… falling…”

“Falling?” Vince repeated, cocking his head to the side slightly. “Falling from where?” Dickie suddenly gasped and clutched his head, digging his gloved fingers into his choppy hair.

“The Impresario!” Dickie yelled so loud it caught Vince off guard. “I have to get back! Oh god, I have to get back!” He began chanting over and over again until he was simply muttering it to himself while still clawing at his scalp. Vince stepped forward and grabbed him by his wrists.

“Alright! Just calm down!”

“Get the fuck off me,” Dickie bellowed, his voice louder and deeper than Vince had heard it so far, “you fucking prick!” Vince let go and backed off immediately, slamming his back into the wall behind him and staring at Dickie with fear-filled eyes. Dickie’s harsh expression grew soft within seconds and he hurried towards Vince to comfort him. “I’m sorry,” he whined, stroking Vince’s cheek, “I know you’re only trying to help… Just… just don’t touch me, alright?”

“O-okay! Jesus…” Vince replied, simply wanting Dickie to leave him alone. The man stunk of cheap booze and perfume, and coupled with the fear of what he might do next it turned Vince’s stomach.

It was at that moment that Vince heard the click of the front door to the flat, followed by footsteps coming up the stairs. Dickie shot away from Vince to see who was coming, and both of them watched Howard get to the top of the stairs before freezing in place at the sight of them.

“Howard,” Vince called out, both pleased and relieved to see his best friend amidst all of the madness. Howard simply stared at them in silence, his eyes darting from Vince to Dickie, then back to Vince until he fell forward and collapsed on the floor. Dickie snorted and began to laugh loudly, the likes of which Vince had never heard before. It was like a deep, maniacal cackle which filled the entire flat and sent shivers up and down his spine. _If we’re near identical, does that mean I can laugh like that too?_ The thought simply unsettled him even more.

Vince rushed to help Howard up as Dickie continued to laugh.

“Howard,” he whispered, “wake up.” Howard blinked a few times and rubbed his head as he gathered himself, staring at the femininely-dressed intruder in the flat.

“Start explaining,” he said firmly, turning to Vince.

“Well you see,” Vince began, wringing his hands behind his back, “I kind of went through Naboo’s bookshelf and found a locked book, so I unlocked it and then he,” he paused, glancing at Dickie who was playing with his toy camera, “just kind of… fell into the flat.”

“Hello?” Dickie called to them both from across the room. “What are you boys talking about? Don’t you think it’s a bit rude not to involve me?”

Vince and Howard just stared at each other.

“Vince… why does he look and sound like you…?” Howard sounded exhausted and fed up, almost as if he wasn’t even surprised by Vince’s actions anymore. Vince was somewhat surprised that Howard had also noticed the resemblance immediately, but he felt that it wasn't worth explaining his analysis of all of their past encounters on this particular night.

“I don’t know. That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out.”

“HELLOOOOO?” Dickie yelled, louder and deeper this time. “Are you pricks gonna help me get back to my den or what? I’ve got clients to see, you know!”

“Yeah, we’re working on it, alright?” Vince retorted, feeling brave enough to talk back to Dickie now that Howard was home. “You’re just gonna have to give us some time. You’ll have to stay here tonight.”

“What?!” Howard turned to Vince with disbelief on his face.

“Well we can’t just kick him out! He’s got nowhere to go! And besides, Naboo’ll kill me if he finds out I let another person I’ve summoned get away!”

Howard sighed.

“Okay, everyone to bed. We’ll sort this out in the morning,” said Howard, already heading for the bedroom. “You,” he pointed to Dickie, “come with me. You’re having Vince’s bed.” Dickie grinned and followed Howard into the bedroom, leaving Vince in the living room.

“But Howard,” he called, “what about the roof?”

“What about it?” Howard stared at the living room ceiling and then at Vince before disappearing into the bedroom. Vince turned around to find that to his amazement the hole that Dickie had left in the roof was gone, as if he had never been there in the first place. Vince stooped to pick up the book that had been left on the floor and sat down on the sofa, where he was to spend the rest of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed this one! Sorry if it's a bit all over the place, I just really wanted to get this idea out there before I lost it. I hope to add more to this fic as well as More To Me soon so stay tuned! Thanks for reading!


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